


i'm only honest when it rains

by aelins



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Pregnancy, alternate ending to qos, epilogue is set 10 years after the death of dorian's father, mildly anti rowaelin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29268864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelins/pseuds/aelins
Summary: Dorian has always known she was his mate and didn't want to consider that she might belong to another.Aelin has always known she belonged, to who or what she didn't know. Too many years spent hiding behind an alias and lies bent and broke her--but as magic comes rushing back to Adarlan and their mate bond snaps into place--she knows.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Dorian Havilliard
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	i'm only honest when it rains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chaol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaol/gifts).



> doraelin forever 
> 
> -for lyddy because you're my hero

The clock tower is shattered.

The Wyrdstone collar around Dorian’s neck has crumbled under her power.

The glass castle is merely sand now.

And the power residing in their veins is wholly theirs.

Aelin looks wildly around at the people gathered to watch them ascend to a new plane of being. Dorian is gaping, and the people—the people are on bended knee.

Aelin’s voice fills every space in downtown Rifthold, “Behold, the King of Adarlan!”

And though Aelin doesn’t say it, she knows the new bond between them is forged in something stronger than blood, something stronger than steel. It is that which she’d thought she’d have with Rowan, what she’d almost been positive had laid between them—it had not been.

It was time for all things between her and Rowan, all obstacles to her reign to perish.

Dorian takes her hand and they walk up the steep angle of one of the ruined parapets, like new gods ascending to Mount Olympus. He holds her hand aloft, and there is silence.

“Bow before your queen.” Dorian’s tone is regal, and seemingly unaffected by his father’s last moments.

_No one bows_. In fact when Aelin had announced that Dorian was king—many of the people who had been on bended knee—stood in defiance of the _fire-breathing bitch queen_.

Dorian wastes no time making sure the natural order of his new monarchy is arranged.

Dorian’s voice is the one that sounds truly like a god now—they are all ants, they are subjects who need to be shown a backbone.

“Bow before your queen or _die_ before your king.” And there’s something in Dorian’s face, something in his tone that makes every single person standing before the stone castle bend their knee.

Aelin squeezes his hand, bringing him back to himself.

“You will not loot, you will take care of each other, and you _will_ not challenge the authority of your new king,” Aelin Galathynius proclaims.

There is nodding and looks of ascent in the eyes of their subjects.

And then Aelin and Dorian leap from the stone castle and land in a crouch in front of the entrance to the stone castle.

*~*~*

He’s exhausted, Chaol will live but anger burns in his veins, at who he does not know. The mating bond—it had snapped into place as soon as magic was restored. He supposed it wasn’t _that_ big of a surprise. They’d nearly been betrothed as kids, and then they’d dated briefly. He supposed it explained the draw to her, the never-ceasing need to be near her, too—Dorian can feel the bond digging into his mind, and he needed her.

She’s just one room over, speaking to Chaol.

_Chaol_. Dorian’s chest has been torn open and sealed shut with loss. He does not know where one loss ends and the other begins.

“Aelin,” He says in a creaky whisper. But it is a call, a summons to her heart.

She turns on her heel, from where she was talking to Chaol. Dorian crooks a finger at her and she finds herself with her arms and legs wrapped around him.

“Alright love birds!” Chaol says, trying to get their attention as they kiss, and kiss, and finally, when it seems they will never depart his room—he just lets them be happy.

Dorian backs out of the room moments later—no doubt to consummate their new bond.

Dorian had always been a gentle lover, as she remembers him from those early days.

Tonight he _devours_ her. She had wanted to take their time, but the need to couple, to be complete in each other’s arms is too great. It’s as if she is a compass and he is true north, they cannot help but be drawn toward each other.

The soft sigh that escapes Aelin when he enters her soaking core, sounds nothing short of every dream he’s ever dreamed coming true.

She lets him top her, for so many reasons. He had always been the king of her heart, and she would not deny him.

“Oh, Dorian!” The word, the name is said like a holy prayer as if she is trying to consecrate the room in his honor, finally, when she comes with a shout, and him an oath—she does not say his name.

“Your majesty,” Aelin’s voice is thick with lust, with need, and with an unending amount of love. Dorian fills her with his seed and they stay together for long moments, his cock still buried inside her.

Finally, when he does roll off her he presses a kiss to her brow.

They spend the night like that, making each other curse, and whimper and shake with pleasure.

*~*~*

The sun dawns grey and early, they are sticky and sated, and Aelin is dreading today.

Because she has to explain to Rowan that—that while they might be carannam—they are not written in the stars.

The meeting with Rowan does not go well, he won’t even admit that there had been something between them—won’t see how bad she hurts for what could have been.

He throws a goblet at her—but then Rowan had never been afraid of hurting her.

She dodges it and shifts. And the fire breathing bitch queen is there in her full glory. She hears hoarfrost crackle—and knows Dorian had come to see Rowan out.

“You reek of betrayal,” It’s the last words Rowan ever speaks to her—the next day he’s on a ship back to Doranelle.

Dorian holds her shaking form, tears streaking down her cheeks.

“He never deserved you, my queen.”

Aelin sobs, “It doesn’t make it any easier.”

Dorian soothes her, has tea and cakes brought, and sits with her until her sadness has been hardened into something like a weapon.

When Dorian isn’t furious and Aelin isn’t in the mood to incinerate everything in her wake—they go to see Chaol off the Adarlan healers, maybe the Torre Cesme would offer aid to Dorian’s best friend.

It’s been a very sad day for both of them, and the heavyweight of the Adarlan and Terrasen crowns will be pressing down on their heads in the morning.

So they sate themselves on each other several more times. Dorian and Aelin are insatiable.

And when the crowns top their heads, there is no doubt they have deserved every jewel, every pound of weight on their heads.

*~*~*

**Epilogue**

She is round with their third child. They have a thousand years—maybe more, to enjoy each other’s company. Dorian has taken up sparring with Chaol, who walks like he did when he was eighteen. There is no distance between their hearts—no price too big to pay for the other’s happiness. Nehemia’s family has accepted both Dorian and Aelin’s apologies for the loss of their beloved daughter.

She has made amends for her wrongs, for her shortcomings—though they are few—it seems the greater her power is the greater her blunders are.

Dorian no longer dreams of stone collars, he has visited Sorcha’s grave, made peace with the past.

Aelin glows, as only a fire-wielding, pregnant queen can. “It’s time,” she says, and Dorian looks up from his sparring game with Chaol—Chaol who has healed more wounds than he’s caused now.

Chaol is the one who runs to get her bag—and Dorian kisses her cheeks, “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m going to be in agony very soon.” But Aelin is giggling as if she knows a secret he does not.

And when the twins are delivered, and Dorian asks, “Did you know?”

She replies with a simple, “I have always known that you would make me a very happy queen, a happy female.”

And Dorian kisses her brow, and the world is at peace.


End file.
